December 2, 2012
The Barbies left for a
birthday party. I want to kill my jealousy and the distorted view of my reality.
Big woman with gigantic feet dressed shabbily and unfashionably with too much
confidence headed for disaster in the absolute wrong direction. That isn’t me.
My body and what envelops it is a far cry from the reflection of who I am in
the world. Accepting it all; the envy, sense of lacking, depletion, physical
limitation, joy in sharing a soggy cookie with Matteos, an email from a friend,
the bond with Cris. This is life, my life.
Courageous confident
patience.
Striving along with one
crutch makes me happy. Hearing about the late night into the wee hours of the
morning birthday party I didn’t attend last night story makes me happy. Sending
Cris and the kids, who were dressed in charming attire, off to the buffet
restaurant two-kids-in-one birthday celebration with cheerful packages Yasmin
and Matteos helped me wrap makes me happy. Spending time writing my short
stories ignoring the I’m starving sensation makes me happy. Wiggling my a bit
less swollen than yesterday toes makes me happy. Whipping up exotic omelets for
Michel and I for lunch makes me ecstatic. Bobbing in the pool doing my pt
exercises and time in the sun makes me happy. How had I missed all of this
happiness…when it was here all along. Silly me!
As I stand above the fancy
espresso machine, begging it to behave and whip me up a cup of coffee…I
understand my vice has taken control. The waft of coffee beans sets up the Pavlov
reaction. What to do about the soggy “v” on my t-shirt front?
No comments:
Post a Comment